The Saints Come Marching
by claw06
Summary: Summary: After a job gone wrong, Murphy finds himself separated from his brother and his father. He is found by Merle and taken in as his 'brother' under the name Daryl Dixon. Now six years later, the world has gone to hell in a hand-basket and the MacManus brothers meet again for the first time since their separation. Murphy has changed alot from the...Full Summary inside SLASH
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Walking Saints has to be my favorite fandom ever!**

 **Summary: After a job gone wrong, Murphy finds himself separated from his brother and his father. He is found by Merle and taken in as his 'brother' under the name Daryl Dixon. Now six years later, the world has gone to hell in a handbasket and the MacManus brothers meet again for the first time since their separation. Murphy has changed alot from the person his family members remember, but how much? And why?**

 **Warnings: Twin-Telepathy; Empath! Murphy; AU! S3; Sharyl or Rickyl; Torture; Violence; Past-Noncon; OOC!ness; Mama! Daryl;**

 **Note: I have about four different versions of this story in mind so I might write them all.**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Run.

Find Cover.

Don't look back.

Murphy panted heavily as he ran, a white hot pain racing up his spine from a bullet wound in his side. Behind him were heavy footsteps, but he couldn't tell if it was Conner and their Da, or their pursuers. He didn't dare turn to find out. They'd been on one of their tougher jobs sent by one of Da's more obscure friends but the man had sold them out. Their targets had captured them but they'd managed to escape and he'd ended up getting separated from his family.

There was a shout from behind him and he forced himself to move faster, ignoring the black spots slowly clouding his vision. Then a gunshot sounded and he felt a brief burst of excruciating pain before he fell to the ground unconscious.

* * *

Connor wrung his hands worriedly as he paced in front of the twin beds in their motel room. Three hours had passed since their escape from the hands of the Mazurka mob and since Murphy had been separated from them and they had no idea what had happened to their youngest family member. They'd tried to go back for him an hour later but they'd had no luck.

He was gone.

He even tried to reach him through their link Murphy's side of the link had been silent, almost as if he were- no! He couldn't bear to think that. Murphy wasn't dead, he couldn't be. He refused to believe anything like that.

"What are we gonna do?" He asked his Da, who was sitting on the bed in front him with a blank expression. To anyone else it would look like he didn't care, but Connor knew it was just his father's way of dealing with things, especially emotional things. Murphy was closer to the man than he was and he knew that losing Murphy after only nine years of having them hurt him deeply. His Da looked up with the most heart breaking expression he'd ever seen on anyone other than his twin.

"I don't know."

* * *

Merle Dixon would be the first person to tell you that he was not a nice man. He wasn't kind, or caring in any shape, form, or fashion. He wasn't the kind of man to care about anyone, not with his upbringing. His father had been a very harsh man, cruel and abrasive and he had a multitude of scars attesting to this fact. However as soon as he laid eyes on the small kid being held captive by the Mazurka gang something in his heart awakened and he felt a wave of protective fury wash over him.

The boy was young, only in his late twenties or early thirties, and was chained to a pole in the corner of the room. His hair was matted down by blood and his naked frame was covered in many bruises and lacerations of different ages. On his back was a tattoo of Jesus' feet crucified and on his one visible forearm was a Celtic cross. The boy shivered violently where he lay, one hand clutching a black rosary in a white knuckled grip and eyes clenched shut.

Merle scowled and looked at Joseph Mazurka, the Don of the mob. He'd been working for the man for almost five years and he hated it. His father had owed Mazurka money and instead of paying he'd skipped town with some waitress he'd met in a bar leaving Merle to pay for his mistakes. It wasn't a job he enjoyed but it helped him get his shit free when he needed it so he stayed even after paying off his father's debt. Now, however his gut was telling him that his time serving Mazurka was over, and it was all because of that kid in the corner.

Mazurka, followed his gaze, glancing over at the boy with a smirk.

"Like him?"

"Who is he?"

"I believe he may be one of the Saints. One of my contacts set him and his partners up. We managed to catch them but they escaped. We only caught this one after we shot him. No matter what we do he just yells and curses at us. He refuses to talk."

Merle raised an eyebrow and looked over at the battered kid incredulously. This kid couldn't be one of the Saints of Boston. He was too frail, too innocent looking. One of the boy's eyes slid open and he found himself looking into a shockingly clear storm blue eye. A slow smile crossed those bloodless lips and he tilted his head slightly in Mazurka's direction. Merle's eyebrow rose higher and he hid a smile turning back to the Don in front of him, who was still talking.

"When he isn't yelling, he's praying or murmuring to himself. The bitch didn't even break when Tyson got him."

He shuddered at his words, stomach churning as he realized just where the blood on the kid's thighs came from.

Behind Joseph the kid slowly shifted into a sitting position, blood running freely down his wrists as he forced his hand from his handcuffs. Then in shaky movements he got to his feet and stumbled over to them, grabbing a gun from the Don's desk. Then, silent as a ghost he aimed the gun and shot him in the back of the head. Once he finished, he turned to Merle, gun raised defensively.

"Whoa, whoa kid. Names Merle, c'mon lower the gun. I 'on mean ya no harm."

The boy wavered on his feet, shivering with the cold but his eyes remained clear.

"M-Murphy." He responded. "Need ta find my brother n' my Da."

Merle nodded and held out his hand for the gun frowning when the kid flinched back violently, nearly falling on his ass.

"Calm down, Kid! Fucking Christ, ya act like I'm a kill ya or somethin'."

Tears welled in the boy's eyes and his grip on the gun tighten.

"Gotta find my brother! Gotta find Connor!" He screamed and the red-neck nodded slowly.

"Alright, Kid. Find yer brother, got it."

The younger man swayed for a moment, eyes going unfocused. Then with no warning he pitched forward, unconscious.

Merle caught him and removed the gun from his grip, heart clenching when he felt how light the brat was. He wrapped him in his over shirt and picked him up bridal style with a sigh.

What the hell did he sign up for?

* * *

He hurt.

He hurt all over.

His body throbbed and ached and there was a sharp pain in his backside from the five months he'd spent in the hands of Mazurka and his men, however from what he could feel his limbs were free. The cuffs that had been his constant companion during his captivity were gone. He groaned softly, shivering at the feel of a bed at his back and a warm, yet worn blanket wrapped around him snuggly.

He frowned, storm colored eyes fluttering open to meet a dirty white ceiling and worried grey-green eyes. He flinched and cowered back, taking stock of the man leaning over him.

He was an older man in his late forties or early fifties with stern roguish features and a large bulky muscled frame. He was tall, standing at least a head taller than Murphy's own slender 5'11 but from what he could feel from the man, he didn't want to hurt him. In fact, the man's emotions radiated warmth, concern and protective intent just like Connor. He blinked and gave him a tiny apologetic smile.

"Sorry."

The man shrugged. "Pro'ly shoulda guessed that ya woulda reacted that way, Tyson is a nasty sumbitch."

He flinched and sat up, not heeding his body's protests and looked at his new companion.

"Where's my brother n' my Da?"

The man, Merle, if his memory was correct, shifted uncomfortably and his emotions darkened into sympathy and dread. Panic rushed through him, his heart speeding up to nearly dangerous levels.

"Where are they?!" He screamed and Merle sighed.

"Kid...I found Mazurka's files and 'is contracts. Yer brother and yer Pa are dead."

Before he even managed to finish his sentence Murphy was shaking his head and struggling to get out of the bed. The older male grabbed his shoulders and forced him to lay back down, heart breaking as he felt the tremors wracking his slim frame.

"No." Murphy whispered, his voice broken. "They aren't- they can't be- no." Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks and Merle sighed, pulling the younger man into his arms.

"Shit Kid, I'm sorry. I 'on know how ta help ya."

Wet storm colored eyes looked up at him, desperate and full of pain.

"What am I gonna do? They were all I had left."

The red-neck shifted, an idea slipping into his mind.

"How well can ya blend in?"

"Well enough ta get by." He responded his Irish accent gone and replaced by Merle's own southern drawl.

"People 'round here don' take too well to foreigners. If ya stay I'mma have ta change yer name. You c'n be my brother or sumthin'."

The man nodded slowly, running a finger over the tattoo on his right index finger.

"Okay."

"Alright then. From now on, yer Daryl. Daryl Dixon. Welcome to the family, lil brother."

The newly named Daryl Dixon stared at him for a moment, reeling from the turn of events...then he gave tiny smile.

Why did he have a feeling his life was about to get alot more interesting?

 **TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 _ **Three Years Later...**_

It took Merle less than two days to realize that his new little brother truly was one of the Saints.

It took him even less time to decide that he didn't care.

The kid was quiet, hardly speaking to anyone that wasn't Merle, and he didn't seem to mind Merle's bad habits. He didn't seem to mind when Merle showed up at their little cabin in the woods, high as a kite and cursing everything in sight. Didn't mind his rough jeers and harsh language, or the messiness of their home. Instead he took it all in stride, making sure the house stayed clean, taking care of him while he was too fucked up to do it himself. Make no mistake, the kid wasn't a push over, hell he called Merle out if he thought he was wrong and wasn't afraid to speak his mind, however his recent trauma seemed to have imbibed him with a caution that Merle had a feeling he hadn't had before.

He'd seemed almost hesitant to piss him off, almost as if he were afraid of Merle turning on him and treating him like the Mazurkas had. Merle had shut that down real fast, promising that although he was an asshole, he wasn't horrible enough to treat him like they had. It took almost a year for Daryl to stop walking on eggshells around him but once he did, Merle found himself feeling like the kid was really his brother and he loved him more than he would ever admit. The broken man he'd found in the Mazurka's basement over three years ago had become his whole world.

He glanced at his brother, jerking when he found the kid watching him, blue eyes dancing with mischief.

"Back with us now?" He asked, the southern accent flowing off his tongue naturally.

Looking at him, you'd never be able to tell he wasn't from their little backwater Georgian town. His natural Irish lilt hadn't made an appearance since their first day together despite Merle's assurances that it was fine and he'd taken to dressing similar to Merle in cut off plaid shirts and white wifebeaters, worn jeans and work boots. He'd even gotten a job at the local garage, taking up the mantle of the best mechanic in town with ease.

Merle smirked, his own steel grey eyes dancing with matching mischief.

"Now don't ya go teasin' ole Merle. I ain' e'en done nothin'." He replied and Daryl snickered then sobered up, stormy hues darkening somberly.

"Two more of the guys at the garage caught that virus. The new one tha' makes folks eat each other."

Merle frowned.

For the past two months this strange new virus had been running rampant all over the world. No one knew what started it but the sickness, but there was no cure and every person that caught it died then came back eating people. No one knew how to stop the infected but all the major cities had started quarantine and evacuating. Major businesses had shut down in an effort to prevent bankruptcy and the military had been called to contain the Quarantines. The world was slowly going to hell in a hand basket and Merle knew if it continued it wouldn't be safe for either of them to be out alone.

"Ya ain' goin' back to work."

Daryl scowled at him, bringing his thumb up to naw on the nail.

"I have to. We gotta eat."

Merle scowled back.

"We c'n hunt in the woods 'round here. But it ain' safe in the city no more."

Reluctantly, his brother nodded in agreement, seeing the logic in his words, however Merle could see in his eyes that although he loved to hunt, he hated not being able to go to work. The garage was his way of occupying his mind from the memories, the nightmares.

Steel-eyes softened and he placed a heavy hand on the smaller man's scarred shoulder.

"I know ya don' like it, Kid. But better safe than sorry."

The younger nodded again then stood, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder.

" 'm goin' huntin'."

* * *

Connor sighed sadly as he entered the cottage him and his Da shared to find the older man sitting in front of the fire with a contemplative look on his face, a small picture clutched in his weathered hand.

Even without being able to see the picture from this vantage point, the blond knew it was the picture of him and Murphy as babies with their Ma because every night when he came home he found him the same position with that very same picture.

"Da?"

Noah turned and glanced at him, and he was shocked to find tear tracks marring the man's cheeks.

"Da?" He repeated apprehensively and his father stood and pulled him into a warm embrace.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Your uncle called...your Ma has contracted the illness...She passed an hour ago."

Pain shot through Connor's heart and he closed his eyes in agony. First, Murphy, now their Ma, it was like his family was slowly dwindling and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Tears burned his eyes but he refused to let them fall, refused to allow himself to break. He couldn't. Someone had to be strong.

A pair of strong lean arms wrapped around him and his father's scent surrounded him. Peppermint, gun powder, and leather invaded his nose and he felt his resolve breaking slowly.

"It isn't healthy to hold it in, Connor. I am here, you don't have to be strong right now."

A soft whimper left the younger man and he burrowed deeper into his father's embrace, allowing his Walls to fall, allowing himself to break just this once.

His father held him tighter and let him cry out his grief, a few tears slipping from his own eyes in silence.

He couldn't help but pray that he was able to protect his only remaining son from the darkness slowly ensconcing the world.

 **'***

* * *

 ***'**

Things went from bad to worse in little to no time.

Just two weeks after Merle forced Daryl to quit his job the world went to hell in a handbasket. The military blockades and quarantines were overrun by the infected and soon the streets were flooded with them. Nothing anyone did seemed to affect them and soon they'd managed to overtake every major city. Merle and Daryl had stayed in their cabin in the woods for nearly three weeks before they were forced to move because the Infected were getting closer to their home. They decided to head to go to the Atlanta safe-zone, Merle choosing not to divulge to his brother that the only reason they'd joined was to rob the camp blind, especially after seeing the children present.

Unsurprisingly, no one recognized Daryl. He'd changed alot since his "Saint Days" and looking at him one would barely be able to recognize him even if they had known his past. Still the others at the camp avoided the two like a plague, frightened by Merle's abrasive nature and sharp wit and Daryl's silence and intensity. Only few were brave enough to speak to either brother but most would admit they were more unnerved by Daryl than they were by Merle.

A month passed and they managed to live in relative peace with the other survivors with only minor altercation. Then Merle went on a run with a few of them...and didn't return.

"Hold up, hold up. Let me process this. You're telling me you _handcuffed_ my brother to a roof... _and you left him there_!"

Merle, his savior, his _brother_ , left to die like a dog tied to a post just because these people couldn't be bothered to deal with him. The only family he had left, the only person in the world left to care about him, _gone._

The new guy, Rick Grimes, looked guilty but his jaw jutted out slightly in defiance. His emotions projected stronger than anyone he'd felt since the loss of his twin and tears burned his eyes. Guilt. Remorse. Determination.

He lunged at him anyways thrashing violently in Walsh's grip. Rick bent down in front of him and Daryl felt his heart and emotions trying to reach for the man but he firmly pushed it all down. He couldn't bond, not with this man. Not with the man that had left Merle to die.

"I'll help you get your brother back."

Sweeter words had never been spoken.

* * *

No.

God please, no!

Not Merle.

 _Not Merle!_

A scream of grief left Daryl as he took in the sight of his brother's bloody hand lying dismembered on the floor, beside a bloody hacksaw.

Merle was gone.

He was alone...again.

Connor.

Da.

Ma.

Merle.

Doc.

Rocco.

Romeo.

They were all gone.

He fell to his knees beside the hand, and picked it up, ignoring the three men behind him as he wrapped it in his bandanna. Then he turned, pale eyes blazing when they landed on T-dog.

"You bastard!" He snarled raising his bow. Rick raised his gun and started talking about how they all had to stick together, his guilt and the guilt of their other two companions permeating the air but Daryl disregarded it, spotting a trail of blood leading back to the doors.

Merle was alive.

He lowered his bow, and fell to his knees, mentally thanking God for his brother's survival.

Merle was alive.

So why was he still alone?

 **TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

They didn't find him.

After leaving the roof and retrieving the guns, they'd been side-tracked by a group of thugs who saw the guns as their own and decided to kidnap Glenn. When they'd finally gotten the kid back, they'd ended up giving some of the guns to the thugs to protect a nursing home before going to where they'd left their van, only to find the van gone.

Merle.

Relief and pain hit Daryl all at once and it had taken everything in him to keep it all shoved inside. Merle had escaped. He was alive…but he'd abandoned him.

From then on it had only gotten worse.

They had returned to camp only for it to be attacked, cutting their group in half. Then they'd gone to the CDC, hoping for a cure only to be thwarted and barely escape with their lives.

Now this.

Sophia was missing and Carl had been shot.

Daryl had always been a faithful man, devoted to his God…but since losing his family that night so long ago, his faith had taken too many hits and he found himself lost. If he didn't have his faith…what did he have?

Sitting on Hershel's front porch staring up at the sky, forlornly he couldn't help but wonder…who was he?

His faith in his God was nearly gone despite his strongest efforts, his bond with his twin had been broken since the older man's death so long ago, and his savior had abandoned him in a group of people who would leave him for dead at a moment's notice.

What did he have left in this world?

"Heavy thoughts?" He jolted, then tensed as he noticed Rick sitting beside him as if he'd been there the entire time.

He'd never heard the man approach.

Never in his life had anyone other than C- _him_ been able to sneak up on him. It was the only thing that had saved his life when he was younger and escaping the bullies at their school.

How had this man, who couldn't hunt to save his life, have managed to do without triggering his instincts?

"I suppose."

Rick hummed softly. "About Sophia?"

He nodded slightly, wondering why he was even answering yet unable to stop the words from escaping him.

"Some of it."

The man nodded, but didn't pry any further. Instead he clasped him on the shoulder gently, then stood and headed inside.

"You should rest."

A splash of heat crawled across Daryl's cheeks and he noticed with no little mortification that he was blushing. Choosing not to respond, he made his way to his tent and slipped inside, one hand grasping the rosary hidden beneath his clothing.

They would find Sophia…he had to believe that. Because if he didn't, his faith would shatter and there would be nothing left in this world for him to hold on to.

 ***CONNER***

America.

Five long years had passed since he'd last been in the country, since he'd lost his baby brother to the Mazurkas, and he found that he had missed the place if only just a little bit.

Murphy had loved being in America, meeting new people, learning new languages. America had given his brother a sense of freedom they'd never had in their hometown and he had loved the carefree grin that seemed permanently plastered on his twin's lips when they lived in Boston.

He sighed hoisting the pack on his shoulders up higher and glancing over at his Da. The older man had been looking a bit worse for wear since the loss of his wife and Connor was worried that he wouldn't be around much longer. Since their arrival in America, it only seemed to get worse.

"Where to?" He asked. Noah hummed softly and glanced around.

They were in Georgia, the state his youngest son had died in. They needed to get out of this state.

"Pick a direction and start walking."

Connor laughed and nodded turning in the direction the Highway cars were facing and walking forward, his father following behind him.

They'd be alright. For Murphy, they would live through this test of faith.

No.

 _NO!_

Daryl's breath caught in his chest as he took in the sight before him, and he was distantly aware of his arms wrapping around Carol as she screamed and struggled to get away from him. He paid her no mind, his entire focus on the tiny walker staggering out of the barn.

Sophia.

Little Sophia was a walker.

He had hoped and prayed for her safety, had searched far and wide for her and now this? How long had she been this way?

Why?

WhyWhyWhy _Why?_

Why hadn't he been able to save her?

His heart clenched in his chest and tears burned his eyes as he stared at the frail little girl. His throat tightened and he raised his bow to end it for her only for Rick to step in front of him, gun raised and aimed at the girl's head.

The gunshot was deafening.

Carol collapsed against him with a broken cry and he fought back his own grief, rocking her and trying to calm her, watching in the corner of his eye as Lori pulled a pale-faced Carl into her arms and clutched him tightly. Hershel and his daughter were a short way away, clutching two bodies and sobbing out their own grief and as he looked around, Daryl felt something in him shatter.

Everything drained from him, his throat loosening and the hold on his heart leaving completely leaving him feeling strangely empty.

Later that night, as he sat in his tent, he finally realized what exactly the emptiness in his chest was.

His faith was gone.

It had held on so long, through the tender mercies of the Mazurka mob, the death of his brother and father, Merle's abandonment, and the loss of the CDC. It had kept him afloat for years, and was the one of the only things that didn't change when he took on the name and persona of Daryl Dixon.

The realization broke the numbness that had engulfed him since the discovery of Sophia earlier that day and he began to sob silently.

He couldn't help but wonder if without his faith was Daryl all there was?

 **TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Shane wasn't sure what to think of Daryl Dixon.

When the Dixon brothers had joined their camp at the quarry, he couldn't help but be wary of them, especially the youngest who was covered in tattoos and had all the looks of a criminal. However, it became apparent only days into their stay that it was the eldest, not the youngest they needed to look out for. The oldest was loud and rude, and more often than not could be found arguing with one member of the camp or another. The younger was more quiet and really only spoke in sharp barbs and spent most of his time in the woods surrounding the camp, hunting. He'd be gone before the sun rose and wouldn't return to sun down, unless it was Sunday. Sunday mornings it was rare to see the youngest Dixon at all before the sun was high in the sky. When asked about it, Merle would wave them off and tell them it was none of their business.

However, since Merle's disappearance, he's noticed the hunter slowly integrating himself with the camp while still keeping a weary distance between them. The only person the man truly interacted with were the children, who he seemed unwilling to greet with the same sharpness in his voice that he greeted everyone else with. He had watched the man search fervently for Sophia after she went missing as if his life depended on it and now looking at the hunter he wasn't sure that it hadn't.

The hunter looked…empty.

His eyes more turbulent than any Georgian storm were blank, indifferent as he looked upon their group. His movements were as listless as the dead moving around them and Shane couldn't help but wonder why he seemed to be the only one that noticed it. Even Rick, who seemed to be the only one other than the children, to get a response from the man, didn't seem to notice.

At the moment, the man sat a bit away from them all, staring blankly into the fire he'd built in front of his own tent.

He looked lonely, and it made his heart twinge with something he couldn't identify.

Standing, the former cop walked over to the man and took a seat beside him, trying to ignore the glance Rick sent him from his place beside Lori.

"Are you alright?"

The hunter didn't look at him.

"Go away, Walsh."

Shane pursed his lips, wondering why he didn't feel the familiar rush of anger he normally felt when someone tried to brush him off. Instead that the twinge in his heart spread, twisting his gut into knots.

"No."

One baleful eye, the color of a summer storm, glared up at him, a tattooed hand clenching into a white-knuckled first. In the fire light the word tattooed on the man's right index finger seemed to stand out and Shane blinked.

"What does it mean?"

Daryl looked up with reluctant inquiry in his eyes and the former cop gestured to the tattoo on his hand.

"What does _aequitas_ mean?" He repeated and the hunter stiffened, something haunted flashing in his gaze as his hand moved out of sight.

" _Veritas et Aequitas_ ," The Latin flowed smoothly off the younger man's tongue, the rough timbre of his voice making the other fight a shiver that wasn't wholly unpleasant. "It means Truth and Justice. C- I've had since I was 19."

Shane raised his eyebrow. "Why?"

"What're ya doin', Walsh? Shouldn't ya be o'er there wit' Officer Friendly?" The hunter accent thickened, showing his annoyance and Shane smirked.

"You're more interesting." He replied shamelessly and Daryl narrowed his eyes at him.

"Ain't here to entertain ya."

The older male sighed and stood, knowing it would be better to leave before the hunter got too annoyed with him.

"Look, I just wanted to see if you were alright. You looked for that little girl harder than any of us, hell even harder than Rick. It's gotta be hard on you to find her like that."

Daryl looked up at him, something vulnerable in his eyes under all the bravado and Shane was pretty sure his heart broke at the younger man's question.

"Why do you care?"

"Daryl-"

"Merle didn't care, he left. _God_ doesn't care, so why? You an' Rick are steady askin' me if I'm alright and being too- too friendly!"

"Because, like it or not Dixon, We're family."

Daryl's expression would've made him laugh…if it weren't so heart breaking.

Who had hurt the younger Dixon…and why did he want to fix it.

* * *

 ***CONNER***

Conner frowned warily as him and his Da followed the small group of men that had happened upon their camp.

The group, made of four men of varying body types had been out scouting and looking for survivors to bring back to their safezone, a place called Woodbury, and while his instincts screamed at him to get as far away from them as possible, there was something about the leader of the group, a burly one-handed man named, Merle, that made him stay were he was.

"I don' trust them." His father whispered softly and Connor nodded in agreement.

"But God sent us that one," He gestured to Merle who was arguing with the man beside him, "for a purpose."

Noah nodded and shouldered his pack higher upon his shoulder as they approached the looming gates of their new home.

As they reached in, it swung open and they were met with a lean muscled, dark haired man, wearing the devil's smile and eyes shrouded in a false kindness.

They fought not tense.

The Governor, despite what they'd been told, was not a good man.

They shared a look while the man spread his arms welcomingly.

"Welcome to Woodbury."

Connor stepped forward with a smile as fake as the kindness in the Governor's face.

"Happy to be here."

* * *

The farm had fallen.

Daryl's eyes burned viciously as he sped away from the burning farmhouse and the herd of walkers, Carol clinging to his back like her life depended on it.

"What are we gonna do?" She whispered, fear in her voice.

He trembled slightly, just as frightened but refusing to show it.

"I don't know."

The smell of smoke, decay, and burning flesh flooded his senses and for a moment the open road in front of him was replaced by cold basement walls and the heavy stench of blood, urine and an unmentionable musk that made his stomach turn.

He shuddered and gripped the handle bars of his bike harder.

"I really don't know."

 **TBC…**

* * *

 **A/N: SHARICKYL IS THE OFFICIAL PAIRING FOR THIS ONE**

 **Question because there are two ways this can go. They can meet at the prison or they can meet at Alexandria. Which way do you think it should go because I can't decide.**

 **Also should Lori live or Die?**

 **R &R**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So the votes are in and the boys will meet at the prison. Lori will live and I'm thinking she might be a good guy. I might pair her with Connor but I'm not sure yet.**

 **Chapter Five**

Winter was terrifying for all of them, especially after it was discovered that Lori was pregnant. Daryl worked hard to bring in more food to keep their bellies, well not full, but definitely not hungry, often giving up his portions to Lori and Carl in a way that made Rick worry for his health. He killed any and all threats that came near the camp, keeping them a secret from everyone and leaving both Rick and surprisingly, Shane to worry that he was going to run himself into the ground.

Then they found the prison.

It was a large looming structure, with sturdy stone walls and a strong but slightly damaged fence, the yard beyond it over run with the dead, but once cleared out, it could be home.

Rick glanced over at their hunter, then back at the building and smiled.

Then maybe Daryl would be able to rest.

* * *

There was a certain irony to be appreciated in his current situation.

For so long, he had avoided prisons like the plague, even breaking out of the Hoag when he'd finally landed there and now…he was living in one willingly.

Had he been the person he was before the apocalypse…he would've laughed and called it a joke, but he wasn't so he didn't.

He flat out refused to sleep in a cell, choosing to build himself a nest in the roof, in one of the more secluded area of the prison.

Most of his time was spent hunting and clearing out cells, trying to prove he was helpful and to keep his mind from the grief he felt at Carol's death. At T-Dog's death.

It seemed like the people around him, the people he was trying to protect, just kept dying and he couldn't stop it.

He snorted in disgust at his own self-pitying thoughts, ramming his blade through the skull of the walker in front of him and desperately glad he'd come to the lower catacombs alone.

If his brothers, either of them knew the direction his thoughts had been going lately, they'd kick his ass.

A soft whimper sounded from one of the solitary confinement cells and he frowned, moving toward it cautiously. Upon opening it his heart stilled.

Carol.

Her grey hair was matted with sweat and grime, and her skin was pale, almost ashen, but she was alive.

He hadn't failed her!

Something sparked in his chest, something warm and fragile. Something he'd been missing for a very long time.

Hope.

 *****CONNOR*****

Woodbury was Hell and The Governor was The Devil.

The small community looked pleasant enough with its quaint little houses and lush green lawns, the governor's portrayal of kindness completing the picture, but for those as attuned to evil as the two former Saints, the image was transparent.

Woodbury was little more than a prison and the Governor was their warden.

The man controlled everything from when one left the community to whether or not they were allowed to carry their weapon. The only way to get away with disobeying the man was death.

Many of the others living in the community had the same blood-soaked aura as their tyrant, but some, Merle included, seemed genuine in their behavior. Due to this, the two remaining saints usually kept to themselves, seldom interacting with the others around them.

"Somethin' on yer mind, Kid?"

Connor blinked and looked up from his study of their current home to meet Merle's curious gaze and smirked.

He and the hick and become strangely good friends since his and his father's arrival in the community, their relationship based almost entirely on their love for picking on the other's culture. It was something that amused his Da greatly, and the old man had taken to the hick as well, parenting him in that stern, almost cold way he had used on them when he'd first met them so long ago.

" 'm brother. Today's our birthday."

Merle raised an eyebrow at him.

"How'dya know that? Could be any fuckin' month in tha year? How do ya know its yer birthday?"

Connor smirked and took a small pocket calendar from his coat, showing the older man the crossed off days.

" 'e made fun of me fer carryin' it. Said I would never need it and now look."

" _The fuck ya need a calendar for? 'ts not like you'll check it anyways."_

" _Fuck you! I just need one!"_

"Little shit didn't let it go for days."

Merle chuckled. "How old are y'all turning?"

Connor thought for a moment. "Thirty-one."

His friend whistled lowly and slapped him on the back, before handing him one of the hunting knives in his belt.

"Didn' get ya shit, but Happy Birthday, Kid."

Connor took it and rolled his eyes.

"Thanks old man."

 *****DARYL*****

Daryl would be the first to admit that he had little experience with children. In his life before Merle, he had avoided them like the plague, scared that the blood on his hands would taint them before they'd even experienced the wonders of the world. _He'd_ had similar thoughts and so they had agreed to protect the world for the innocent but avoid them so they wouldn't taint them. Then, when Merle had taken him in, children had avoided him on the word of their parents, the Dixon name notorious around the town they lived in for the horrible things that Merle's father had done in his life. After joining the Quarry group, he gone back to the mentality of protect and avoid, something Sophia and Carl hadn't allowed him.

This said, as he held Lil Asskicker in his arms, he could feel his heart melting. Rick ad Shane were both with Lori, worried that the woman wouldn't live through the night and as such the child's wellbeing had been passed to him.

The infant was small and fragile in his embrace, his tiny cheeks soft beneath the callous flesh of his thumbs and he felt love blooming in his shattered heart.

He'd been battered and beaten by the world, his faith ripped from him by the harsh reality he lived in and, as he looked down at the beautiful _innocent_ babe in his arms, suckling harshly on the nipple of the bottle she fed with, he vowed to himself that nothing would happen to her.

As long as he lived, Judith, his lil asskicker, would be the happiest baby in this plague infested world.

 **TBC…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Three months.

They'd been at the prison for nearly three months, and things were going good…

Too good.

Lori had survived Judith's birth and was slowly healing, spending most of her time trying to make the prison a home instead of…well. Carol had healed from her ordeal in the catacombs and spent most of her time in the kitchens maintaining their food stores or helping take care of Judith. She'd also, with the help of Hershel, taken over the children's schooling, much to Carl's consternation.

The brightest point, however, had to be Glenn, Maggie and Judith. Glenn and Maggie had, with Hershel's blessing, gotten married, Rick officiating the ceremony since he was their leader. The couple, although new, were so in love that he ached looking at them, longing for someone that would gaze at him the way Glenn looked at Maggie. He snorted.

A fool's dream.

Someone as tainted as him would never-

Judith whimpered in his arms, pulling him from his thoughts, and he smiled wanly at the babe. At three months, she was the light of his life, even though she wasn't his child, and he loved her immensely.

"You're very good with her." He jumped startled, causing her to whine softly and he shushed her, looking up at her father with a slight frown.

"Ain't much. I just talk to her." He replied and Rick chuckled, settling in where he leaned against the rail of the guard tower.

"Its more than that. She's more behaved with you than she is with any of her parents. With me and Shane she just moves around until we manage to get her comfortable. With Lori, she cries. With you, she's perfect."

He blushed, and reluctantly held the babe out to her father.

Shane and Rick had come to an agreement to raise the child together with Lori since there was no certain way to tell exactly who her parent was, ( he was certain it was Shane, she looked just like him). They were both good with her, but she was _his_. He'd raised her the first six weeks of her life as the two fought to help Lori get better and deal with their fear of losing her.

He didn't want to give her up.

Something in his gaze must have shown this because Rick sent him that sweet warm smile that made his insides flutter. The former deputy and his partner had been doing that a lot lately, smiling him in ways that made his cheeks warm and his hackles rise.

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing." The man stated, blue eyes twinkling and Daryl blushed, slowly pulling her back to cradle her against his chest.

A slow smile crossed his…friend's lips, and he swallowed as Rick reached forward to cup his cheek.

"Beautiful."

He jerked back, and looked away, heart pounding rapidly in his chest.

"I gotta go."

"Daryl-"

He shook his head, gently placing his Lil Asskicker in her father's arms regardless of her displeased whimpers.

"I'm gonna go see if Glenn and Maggie are back yet."

"You might want to wait." Both men turned as Shane walked over to them wearing an uncharacteristically serious expression, a stoic dread-headed woman following him.

"Shane?"

"Glenn and Maggie were kidnapped."

Daryl's heart leapt into his throat and his eyes shuttered closed for a brief second before he turned to walk past Shane ignoring how the two called after him.

He should've known the peace wouldn't last.

* * *

Glenn was terrified.

As he stared up at the menacing form of Merle Dixon, at the calm stoic man in the corner, he realized he'd never been more terrified than he was now.

Not when Daryl had threatened to kill him, not at the CDC, never.

Trembling in fear, he jumped startled when the unknown man spoke.

"Where's your group?" He rumbled, and his voice was deep, almost soothing… he wanted to give in.

He swallowed and shook his head.

No.

He couldn't, not if they were after his family.

Merle smirked. "I'm gonna enjoy this." He sneered and went to punch him, Glenn flinched and closed his eyes.

But the pain never came.

Fearfully cracking an eye open, he found that the stoic man had moved forward and caught Merle's fist before he could hit him.

"He who seeks revenge-" He began but Merle cut him off with a slight frown.

"Should dig two graves."

Glenn blinked, remembering Daryl saying something like that to Shane when the man had gone on and on about getting revenge on Ed before Rick had come.

The older man nodded and Merle…pouted.

"I hear ya. But you hear the boss, he wants their group found 'n taken care of."

Mr. Stoic said nothing for a moment then turned to Glenn who flinched at the look in the man's eyes.

"I will kill you if I must. But you will tell me what I want to know."

Trembling, Glenn could do nothing but close his eyes and pray Rick found him.

* * *

Merle frowned as he followed Cameron to the fight pit, wondering why the Governor had ordered him there.

Make no mistake, he had no problem beating the shit out of anyone, but it was too much of a coincidence for him to be summoned so soon after Officer friendly and his group had attacker Woodbury to rescue the chink and his girl.

That meant one of them had been captured.

He snorted.

Only one of them mattered to him so he could care less.

As he arrived in the pit, he found the Governor waiting with a snarl on his face, the citizens of Woodbury gathered on the grimy bleachers surrounding it. Spotting Conner and Noah, he nodded and moved to the middle.

"I always thought you were one of my most loyal men, Merle. I saved you, gave you a home…and this is how you repay me."

Merle frowned confused and The Governor chuckled darkly, realization lighting his gaze.

"When I first saw him, I thought there was no way you could be related. He's so beautiful, defiant… _Broken._ I thought you knew, but you didn't, did you?"

The former convict stared at him, horror slowly taking over him.

No.

 _No!_

A slim form struggled as it was dragged forward, face covered by a burlap sack, but those familiar tattoos were still visible.

Daryl.

His breath caught in his throat after seeing his little brother alive after so long and he was distantly aware of Connor's breath hitching.

The Governor yanked the sack off and grabbed Daryl's jaw roughly as the archer snarled viciously, so much like the animals he spent time in the woods with.

"Look at this face! This is the face of our enemy, of Merle's little brother!" An unforgiving smirk crossed the man's lips.

"That's why, he and Merle will fight to the death. The winner will be killed."

 **TBC…**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Connor's breath caught in his throat, wide eyes roving the face of the newcomer as if he could permanently sear it into his memory.

Almost seven years, had passed since he'd seen that face, nearly seven years of believing its owner was dead, but now…he was here.

Storm blue eyes were wild, nearly feral as they tracked the Governor predatorily, before they turned to stare at Merle. The convict stared back, face paler than Connor had ever seen it.

"Daryl, I-"

Murphy's eyes narrowed and he shifted around like a caged animal, shoulders tensing and relaxing in intervals. Still he was silent, and for Connor that was more disconcerting than anything. _He_ was the quiet one. Murphy was friendly, and loved to talk to everyone, he couldn't stay quiet to save his life. He was too nice.

Around them, the Woodbury citizens roared for blood, the Governor standing before them with a smug look on his face, and he shared a look with his father.

They needed to get Murphy and Merle outta there.

Merle shifted the lowered into a crouch but before anyone could do anything, four objects sailed through the air and smashed against the floor of the makeshift fight ring, filling the area with smoke. Nodding to each other, the two saints moved toward the two in the midst of it. Four figures moved around them, moving on silent feet, and Connor had a feeling they were the rescue squad. A gun pressed against his back.

"Where do you think you're going?" Growled a voice and he scowled, fingering his own gun nervously.

"Just trying to get to me brot'er."

His captor hummed lowly. "Hands where I can see them."

"What, you a cop?"

"I was."

Snorting, he did as he was asked only for a sharp pain to spread across his skull and drag him into unconsciousness.

* * *

Rick frowned deeply as he stared down at the two men they'd taken from Woodbury with Merle and Daryl. He had no clue why, but something in him had told him to grab them, and as a man that listened to his instincts, he'd done so. It was obvious the two were related, perhaps even father and son, but for some reason they both reminded him of the stoic archer slowly stealing his heart. The younger of the two even had the same dry wit that the man exhibited on occasions, from what he'd seen in the few moments they'd interacted.

Beside him, Shane crossed his arms, dark eyes full of concern.

"Think we can trust them?"

Rick nodded. "They don't seem like the type of people to follow bastards like the Governor for no reason. Something tells me that they have to be here."

His partner nodded, glancing at the bed across from the two where Daryl lay unaware. The archer had collapsed around the same time their younger hostage had and had yet to awaken, but from what they could see, other than a few bruises and cuts, he was fine. A quiet groan left the older hostage, drawing their attention back to him, as he sat up, looking around him warily.

He was intimidating, even cuffed, his eyes the same stormy color as Daryl's and nearly as piercing, and yet…the second his gaze landed on the unconscious hunter it softened.

"Murphy." He whispered softly, voice full of disbelief and pain, of longing and love, and both of the former cops felt their hearts tug, because _their_ archer needed more love, more people willing to look out for him. He needed more people willing to see past his gruff, nearly acerbic exterior to the pain ridden soul underneath.

"Murphy?" Rick questioned and the newcomer looked up at them briefly, then looked back at Daryl like he expected him to disappear.

Before he could respond, however, the hunter stirred, stormy eyes flying open and a feral snarl curling his lips.

It shouldn't have been as hot as it was.

"Whoa, hey. You're okay, Daryl. We got you out." Rick soothed and the man calmed, keen eyes darting around the room eerily similar to the way the other man's had only a few moments before. When his gaze landed on their hostages…he froze.

He didn't moved, didn't speak, hell it even looked like he'd stopped breathing for a moment. Then, with all the caution of a wounded animal, he slid from his bed and moved toward the man, ignoring the inquiries from both of the former cops. He reached forward hesitantly, eyes brimming with tears, then jerked away only a few moments before he was able to touch him. A sad smile crossed their hostage's lips and he placed a gentle hand on the hunter's cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that escaped when the younger jolted at his touch.

"Da," Daryl greeted, the word broken and full of pain and Shane swallowed thickly, feeling like him and Rick were intruding on something private and yet, seeing so much emotion from the normally taciturn man, he couldn't look away.

"Sh, it's okay, son. You're okay." The man soothed and a quiet sob left the hunter.

"You were dead. They said you were dead." An imploring look was sent in their direction and Rick stepped forward, unlocking the handcuffs from both hostages, so that the man could hold the hunter. Daryl held onto him tightly, his hands shaking as he fought not to let down his walls.

"They lied, _**ceann beag**_ **.** We went back for you, but you were gone. All we found was your blood, we thought _you_ were dead." He replied, Irish accent thickening as his own emotions intensified.

Shane and Rick shared a look, remembering their own experiences. Perhaps this man was someone Daryl had lost at the beginning of all of this. His father, if they heard right.

"Daryl?" Shane questioned, and his…friend stiffened, pulling away from his father to glare at him defensively.

"What?" He growled gruffly, and his father raised an eyebrow at him.

"Who is this?"

Daryl frowned, then his lips twitched like he wanted to smile but couldn't bring himself to do so. His eyes were dark with fatigue and pain, and it almost made Shane want to take back his question.

"My Da, Noah and my brother Conner."

Rick's brow furrowed. "Thought Merle was your brother."

"He is. Ain't gotta be blood to be family, y'all know that."

They nodded. "So your name is Murphy."

"Not anymore." Noah shot him a surprised look but the archer ignored it, standing and they could see him almost visibly withdrawing into himself, uncomfortable with amount of emotion he'd displayed in front of them.

Rick smiled at him. "Judy's awake and fussy. She missed you."

Gratitude flashed in Daryl's eyes, his gaze lighting up at the mention of _his_ little Asskicker. "She with Beth?"

Rick nodded and the archer quickly fled, leaving his father to stare after him bewildered.

Shane placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "He'll come around. Just give him some time to process. In the meantime, get some rest."

Noah nodded slowly, but still looked like he wanted to go after the hunter. Instead he turned to his eldest child and smiled warmly.

"He's alive, Connor. Murphy is alive." He murmured but still the younger man slept on, unaware of the events that had transpired.

Rick and Shane shared a look then left the room to give the small family some peace. Maybe they would be able to get the archer to spent more time with his family later. It looked like the three of them (four if they counted Merle) needed it.

 **TBC…**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"You told me they were dead."

Merle frowned in confusion at his little brother's words, at the hurt in them.

"What?"

"You told me that they were dead, Merle. The day you save me."

His eyes widened, hurt striking him as he finally realized what his brother said. Connor flasher in his mind's eye as did the lilting Irish accent his brother had once spoken with. How could he be so stupid?

"I wouldn't lie to you, ya know that. All of Mazurka's papers said they were dead."

Daryl nodded, relaxing slightly, but the hurt was still there, lingering in eyes. He looked more vulnerable than Merle had seen him since the night he saved him.

"You left me." He rumbled. "You left me behind."

The elder Dixon scowled, covering the guilt he felt for hurting the younger.

"They hand cuffed me to a roof and left me to die!"

"We went back!" Daryl yelled and he froze. "We went back for you and found nothing, _nothing_ but cauterized flesh and a disembodied hand. I thought you were _dead_."

"Daryl, Kid, I-"

"Then the van was gone and we were stranded and you never came back. You abandoned me."

The pain in the other man's voice was raw, as was the hurt in his stormy gaze and he felt shame overtake him.

He hadn't been thinking when he'd found the van. His only intention was to get out of dodge and find Daryl. He'd planned to take his brother and run but the blood loss and the drugs had skewed his sense of direction taking him far off course. Then he'd passed out and the Governor had found him and "saved" him. He'd never even had a chance to look for Daryl before the bastard had roped him into working for him, citing that Merle owed him for saving his life.

He'd given up hope ever finding his brother, until Friendly and co. had stormed Woodbury, until he'd seen Daryl in the Pit.

"I'm sorry." He replied, knowing the other would hear everything he couldn't bring himself to say.

True enough, the hunter stared at him then nodded, emotions locking down.

"You'll all be going in front of the council after lunch. They're gonna decide if you can stay or not."

"Council?"

Daryl nodded but didn't elaborate.

"Lunch will be sent up in a few minutes."

Just as the words left his mouth, soft footsteps sounded and a slim blond girl entered. She was petite with a soft Disney princess kind of beauty that would've left anyone else breathless. Luckily, Merle wasn't just anyone. He stared at her, trying to intimidate her into leaving but she snorted and passed Daryl a tray with some sort of stew and bread on it.

"Pleasant friend you got there, Daryl."

The archer snorted, relaxing at her mere presence.

"Quiet, brat. Fer I tell yer daddy ya snuck up here."

She pouted.

"It's not like he'll hurt me. He's related to you, so he can't be all bad."

Both Dixons smiled at the statement but didn't comment on the girl's naivety.

"Lunch." Daryl said instead, passing his brother the tray.

One whiff and Merle frowned.

"Rabbit? I hate rabbit."

A mischievous smirk crossed his brother's lips and he turned to leave with Blondie.

"I know."

* * *

"He's alive, Conn."

A soft groan left Conner's lips as he awakened, before his eyes shot open, final registering his father's words.

The events of the night before flashed in his mind's eye and he wanted to fall to his knees and thank the Father.

Murphy was alive.

He was _alive!_

Their bond flared in his mind, strengthening with every passing moment and he looked up at his father with a brittle smile on his lips.

The man smiled back, running a gentle hand through his hair but before he could speak there was a knock on the door and the cop from before entered followed by another man, who smiled warmly at them.

"Good afternoon gentlemen. My name is Hershel Greene and the young man in front of me is Rick. I'm gonna look you over while you eat lunch then we'll bring you before the council so that you can hear the decision."

Noah frowned. "Where is my son?"

Rick sighed, but Hershel didn't falter.

"Ah yes. Rick did tell me that you're Daryl's family. I imagine he's having lunch with the others."

Conner frowned. "Who the hell is Murphy? My brother's name is Murphy."

His father placed a calming hand on his arm. "Murphy changed his name."

His frown deepened and he stared at the men in front of him. Hershel ignored it and continued to check them over for injuries but Rick stared back calmly.

After a moment, the doctor moved away.

"You're good to go. Just a few bumps and bruises here and there."

They nodded and Rick sighed.

"I don't want to cuff you, but I will if you get out of hand. Follow me, we're going to the next block over."

Sharing a look, the former saints followed the duo out of the room and into the halls, keen eyes scanning their surroundings and something warm unfurled in their gut.

This place…it could become home.

They were led into a library where four others waited patiently. Three were unfamiliar but they only had eyes for the fourth one.

Murphy.

In the harsh lighting of the library, the changes between the man they'd known and the man before them were starkly visible.

Scars marred tanned skin, hidden under a thin layer of dirt and ink, messy dark hair fell into nearly feral storm blue eyes brushing the top of broad shoulders, and there wasn't a trace of humor in eyes that were normally never without it. Had it not been for the well-known tattoos and the hum of their bond, Conner would have never suspected this man was his brother.

"Murph…" He breathed and the younger male stared at him impassively.

"The council had made a decision." One of the others, the man the Governor had captured days previous, stated, fear lurking in his gaze as they met his father's.

"And what is that?" He snarked and his brother's lips twitched.

"All three of you will be able to stay as long as you pull your own weight."

Rick responded, sending Murphy a loaded glance. The youngest saint nodded, and he smirked satisfied. Conner's eyes narrowed.

There was something going on there.

No matter…his brother still hadn't spoken to him.

That was a problem.

"No words fer yer long lost twin?" He snarked at his twin who gave a small smile, impassive expression melting.

"Twin?" Rick commented slyly and a faint blush crossed his brother's cheeks.

Oh yeah, _definitely_ something going on there.

Ignoring it, for the moment he reached out and pulled the younger man into a fierce hug.

Murphy stiffened and he went to pull away but he tightened his grip.

"We thought you were dead, Murph."

"I thought y'all were dead too. Merle found me." His twin responded his voice deeper and rougher with a sultry southern tang…nothing like the light Irish he was used to.

Still didn't matter.

Relief rushed through him and he thanked Dixon fervently in his mind.

They still had a lot of shit to talk about and Murphy still had no clue Ma was dead, but at the moment as he held his twin nothing seemed to matter.

Everything seemed fine…

Then an infant's cry pierced the silence and before he could comprehend what was happening, Murphy was gone.

 **TBC…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The tension in the room was stifling.

His brother and father, both people he'd mourned for years were alive and well and he had no idea how to react.

Before, when he'd awakened in the infirmary with his father and Conner lying only paces away, it had seemed surreal, a figment of a fragmented mind…but now as he stared into his brother's hazel blue eyes, so similar to his own, something seemed to click into place.

Their bond.

It hummed warm and vivid in the back of his mind, brighter than it had been since the day he was captured by the Mazurkas. With every step his brother took, it brightened and sang, only his own iron will and control keeping it under lock as the Council revealed its decision.

Even as Conner snarked at him, it seemed like a fantasy, something conjured by his mind...

It was the hug that shattered that illusion.

Nothing in existence had ever projected its emotions to him as strong as his twin, especially when there was direct contact between their skin.

 _WarmthGriefLoveLongingRelief_ filled him, none of it his own and he stiffened, biting back a gasp, his grip tightening on his crossbow as if it could protect him from the onslaught.

In the end, it was Judith that saved him.

Her cry pierced the tide like one of his bolts and it was the most natural thing to yank away from his brother to rush to her side, while shoving his emotions away to be dealt with later.

He'd deal with all of it _after_ he took care of Lil Asskicker.

* * *

Unbeknownst to him, the others followed him, two wondering what had set the man off, while the remainder were full of exasperated amusement, well aware of the hunter's overprotective tendencies where Judy was concerned. They knew that although she was technically Shane, Rick, and Lori's she really belonged to Daryl and none of them would dare interfere with that.

Daryl was not someone they wanted to cross.

They arrived in the Mess hall to find Carol bouncing the infant frantically, relief lighting her face as Daryl came into view.

"Daryl, hey. She woke up while y'all were in the meeting and immediately started fussing. She really missed her Pookie."

Daryl glared at her but gently took the child from her, ignoring Conner's snort at the nickname.

"Tol' ya not to call me that."

Carol smirked. "Sure thing…Pookie."

He rolled his eyes turning his gaze onto the slowly calming baby.

"Hey, baby girl," He rumbled soothingly. "What's got ya all mad?"

She stared up at him, one tiny hand reaching up to grab his hair and he smiled, feeling all the tension from the past few day fall form his shoulders.

"Yeah, Yeah. I missed you too."

She giggled, cooing at him and he rolled his eyes.

"She yers?" Noah asked leaning over his youngest son's shoulder, careful not to touch the child.

His hands were much too stained to hold something so innocent. Conner, of the same mind moved to stand beside his twin while Rick chuckled and stood in front of him, pressing a kiss the baby's head.

"She might as well be." He responded, smirking when Daryl blush faintly.

"Shaddup."

"Well, she does react to you best." Came another voice and they all turned as Shane made his way over to them, dark eyes full of mischief.

The hunter's blush darkened and he looked away.

"Whatever. Did ya tell Merle?"

Shane scowled.

"Yes."

They waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. Instead his scowl deepened.

"Next time you or Rick can go deal with the fucker." He turned to Conner. "Nice to see you awake, Kid. Hopefully you're less irritating than Daryl's other brother."

"I'm not."

"He's not." He and Daryl responded simultaneously and Rick raised an eyebrow.

Daryl flinched, gaze shuttering as he handed Judith to the older male.

He had to get out of here.

He needed to think.

"I'll be back."

Judith fussed slightly and he ran a gentle hand over her head, while Rick and Shane both frowned at him.

"Daryl-"

"Two days."

"One." Shane shot back.

His eyes narrowed stubbornly. " _Two."_

Shane stared back, just as stubborn and Rick sighed. "One."

"Tw-"

"Goddamnit Daryl! We have no idea when that bastard is coming. You're one of our best fighters! I wish we could give you two days to hunt and clear your head, but we don't have that luxury right now! After we take care of Governor Jackass, maybe, but right now we _can't_. One. Day."

The hunter stared at them, storm blue eyes full of turmoil and jaw clenched.

Then without a word he turned and left. Conner moved to go after him, his heart racing at the thought of being separated from his brother _again_ but Rick stopped him.

"He needs this."

"Where's he going?"

"Hunting."

Conner frowned. "Murphy can't hunt to save his life. He won't even shoot a fucking rabbit if he didn't have to."

The former cop sighed. "Look you're his family, I get that, but the man you _knew_ he's changed. We've _all_ changed. Daryl may have been this Murphy character once but he isn't anymore. The man we know is a survivor. Half the time, he's trying to keep you at arm's length, the other half he's saving your life. He's a hunter, a protector and one of the best men I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

He paused for a moment and Shane took over, voice solemn. "We don't know the person he was _before._ We know who he is _now._ This world, it changes you in ways that you'll never come back from, and for Daryl I think he changed long before that. The faster you realize that the easier it'll be to get him to open up to you."

The older MacManus twin thought over their words and his resolve strengthened. Something had happened when his brother was separated from them, something that had changed his brother and he wanted to know what it was.

But first he wanted to get to know this new facet of Murphy. He'd always been an expert at knowing his twin and now it seemed that he knew nothing.

Unacceptable.

He shared a glance with his father who nodded, watching the proceedings like sentinel.

They would get Murphy back and bring the mischief, the light back to his eyes, no matter what it took.

 **TBC…**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"Wanna talk about it?"

Daryl hummed softly as he prepared the doe he'd caught that morning, trying to ignore the way Carol's eyes were boring into the side of his head.

He'd kept his word and returned from his hunt at dawn, a fat doe hefted over his shoulders and rabbits tied to his belt, yet his mind was no clearer than it had been when he left. If anything, his thoughts were whirling faster, the threat of the Governor and the turbulence caused by the reappearance of his family leaving his emotions in disarray.

He was happy, so _happy_ that they were alive, so relieved that they weren't out among the millions of animated corpses outside the prison gates.

On the other hand, he was hurt. They'd lived on without him, unaware of the torture he'd suffered at the Mazurka's hands, or the skills he'd gained. They didn't know he'd mourned their losses, his faith being tried again and again until it vanished completely.

And that was his main problem.

As Murphy, he'd had faith. Of him and Connor, his faith had been the stronger of the two prevailing whenever his brother's waivered, when all the odds seemed stacked against them. As Daryl, he had lost his faith. God had forsaken him a long time ago, and had taken his love and faith with it.

All he had now…was hope.

Hope that his Lil Asskicker would grow up strong, surviving this hell-driven apocalypse and becoming strong and fierce, like he knew she would. Hope that he wouldn't lose anyone else to the plague sweeping the world.

Most of all, hope that he would survive long enough to see it all through.

Looking up at Carol, he gave her a tiny smile, shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind.

"I'm fine."

She snorted, rolling her eyes at the lie.

"No, you aren't, but it's okay. I can wait." She squeezed his shoulder gently, then ran a hand through his hair. "I'm here when you're ready to talk."

"Thank you."

She smiled. "Of course."

 ***/***

Longing.

It ran rampant through his veins as he watched Grimes and Walsh interact with their group, no their _family._

The familiarity between them spoke of bonds forged by hardship, by suffering and survival. It spoke of people that were willing to die for each other if need be, knowing that any of their fellow survivors would avenge them if they fell.

It was _family_ and he yearned for it.

Before everything, the Saints and his consequent separation from his twin, he had always had his mother and his brother. With his father out of the picture in prison, their family had been closer than most, only strengthened by the telepathy he and Murphy had shared.

Then, suddenly, they were in America and it was just him and Murphy, their mother thousands of miles away counting on them to make something of themselves in the promising country. They made friends, their family growing before being stolen again.

Doc.

Dolly.

Duffy.

Greenly.

Romeo.

Rocco.

Da.

Their little family had doubled, _tripled_ , only to be picked off one by one, by their mission, by the plague sweeping the world and suddenly instead of it being only him and Murphy against the world, it was him and Da, his twin forever lost to him.

Now, six years of grieving and his twin was alive, their bond bright in the back of his mind and full of a warmth he thought he'd never feel again. He could feel his brother's emotions, _happinessconfusiongriefrelieflove_ _ **loveLOVE**_ **,** and it left him breathless.

He'd never forgotten about Murphy's capacity to feel, to _love_ more intensely than anyone he'd ever met. It was something he and Ma had attributed to the younger man's empathy, however feeling it again and directed even partially at him was something else entirely.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he jolted turning to the culprit to find Grimes watching him with worried, and amused blue eyes.

"If you miss breakfast because you wanted to brood, I will laugh and eat your share."

The man said with a friendly smile and Connor rolled his eyes.

"I don' brood."

The former cop snickered. "Uh-huh. C'mon, you may be able to catch Daryl at breakfast before he sneaks off to do Daryl things."

"Daryl things?" He repeated confused, following the man back inside. They'd all been outside in the yard, clearing as many walkers from the fence as they could. Well, everyone barring the blonde woman from the day before, the kids, and the mousy woman that had called Murphy "Pookie".

When they got inside they found Murphy already present, blushing vividly as the little blonde, Beth, teased him about one thing or another, Judy safely ensconced in his arms as she suckled from her bottle.

Grimes smirked at him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he leaned over the man to kiss his daughter's forehead, and Connor's eyebrow rose as Murphy's blush darkened even more.

Huh.

He knew that face.

It was the same one the other wore when he was crushing on Margret Isaacs in the sixth grade and Liam Fredricks shortly after they'd arrived in America.

Murphy was in love.

Well, now.

"Did you at least let Lori, have a chance with her before you kidnapped her?" The man teased and Murphy huffed.

"She made me wait two hours. _Two_! Tol' me she had ta change her diaper and bathe her. That don't take two hours, Rick." The gruff southern accent startled him slightly, still unused to the sound of it replacing his brother's soft lilting Irish one, it didn't match what he knew of the younger's gentle nature.

Still, he could tell the other was pouting, even if her didn't sound like it.

"Isn't Lori her mother?" He asked drawing his brother's attention and Grimes snickered.

"Yeah…mostly. Daryl is more her-"

"Rick, I will stomp yer ass if you finish that sentence."

Holding his hands up placatingly, the cop sat down, still smirking, especially as Walsh joined them.

"But you're such a pretty mama, Daryl." The darker haired man taunted, smiling when Murphy glared, blushing.

"Fuck you Walsh. Remember than next time we go huntin'."

Walsh paled, chuckling nervously.

"Hey now, be reasonable. No need to shoot me with your crossbow…again."

Connor blinked, taking a bite of the stew, he'd grabbed from the mousey lady, Carol, on his way in.

It was good…even if didn't recognize the meat in it.

"He shot you?"

Murphy smirked.

"He deserved it."

Walsh blushed. "I was drunk!"

Grimes snorted. "Uh-huh, and you decided to slip into Daryl's bed while he was sleeping, thinking he was Lori."

The blush darkened.

"It was an honest mistake!"

The other two stared at him and he huffed returning to his own food while Connor watched them bewildered.

"Alrighty then," He said changing the subject. "How about we go catch up, brot'er o' mine."

His twin froze, then swallowed looking away.

"Yeah." He responded softly, placing his spoon down with a shudder. "Guess we should do that."

He handed his little companion to Beth, who smiled at him sympathetically and kissed his cheek.

"Everything'll be alright, Pookie. You'll see." She whispered giggling when Murph glared at her.

"Tol' y'all not to call me that."

She snorted. "Like we'd really listen." She replied dancing away from the resulting swat and leaving the room.

Murphy stood, and he followed, sighing as his twin took off in what he assumed was the direction of his room, longs legs moving briskly as if he were trying to hurry and get this all over with.

"What about Da?"

The younger shrugged. "Knowin' him, he's probably already there."

"Where?"

He got no response, and he scowled, raising an eyebrow as his bother came to a cell with part of it caved in, a large slab of the ceiling leaned down like a ramp. Two other slabs were stacked against each other like stairs and he was stunned when he realized where they were going.

"You sleep on the roof?"

His twin hummed. "Easiest place to hear everything and see attackers before they see us." He paused. "An' I didn' wanna sleep in the cell, made me feel caged."

He stared then nodded, allowing the leaner, but more muscular male to help him onto the roof, smiling when he saw their Da was already present.

A nest of blanket and pillows rested under a slab of stone that had been propped up against the building forming a natural tent, a large tarp thrown over it to protect it from the elements and give an illusion of privacy. A machine gun turret was set up close to the edge, a sniper rifle and a large crossbow leaned beside it, as well as a black duffle bag zipped closed to hide its contents from the world.

Different animal pelts were laid out in different states of mending and treatment, a blanket made of deer skin in its last stages.

It was organized and practical like his twin, even if the some of the objects seemed to contrast what he knew of the other.

Murphy slipped into the tent, returning with three large pillows, and handed two to them to sit on. He sat on the other, leaning beside the machine gun with wary storm colored eyes.

"Guess it's time for us to catch up."

 **TBC…**


End file.
